


Trifecta

by ursa



Series: Dead Heat [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: LSD, Multi, Not Beta Read, OT3, PWP, Threesome, accidental fluff, all the fun stuff, kind of future fic, mouths meet genitals, switching scenes, the most explicit thing i've ever written so far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ursa/pseuds/ursa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Definitely never going to see them the same way again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trifecta

She would probably never look at an asshole the same way ever again. Scratch that, she’ll probably never look at either of these two the same way again. Not when she’s splayed naked on top of Derek with her hand wrapped around his cock, his legs spread apart to accommodate Stiles’ face. Which, by the way, looks simultaneously debauched and smug, tongue flicking between his already wet lips. He moves forward, nipping Lydia’s nose before licking her hand, the very hand wrapped around an uncut dick. She’s never going to get rid of this image now.

Stiles keeps licking, downward, leaving a generous trail of wetness as his eyes continued to maintain Lydia’s stare. She draws a shuddering breath as she felt Derek shift minutely under her, his hands ghosting across the backs of her thighs. She can feel his breathe fanning over her lips, his hands inching closer to spread them wide. Stiles huffs softly, smirking as she realized she’s closed her eyes at Derek’s efforts. She grips harder in retaliation, earning her a huff from below her.

Lydia feels Derek’s breath hitch as Stiles decidedly spreads him, thumbs circling closer towards Derek’s hole. She can only watch as Stiles comes nearer, wetting his lips before licking a long stripe from the edge of Derek’s clenching sphincter, across his perineum, towards the tip of Derek’s cock, and ending with a filthy kiss for Lydia’s gaping mouth. She shifts accordingly, feeling her nipples brush against the coarse hairs of Derek’s torso, the heat pooling in her gut. Definitely never going to see them the same way again.

 

-

 

The henley’s loose on her petite frame and the mug of hot tea warms her hands. It’s silent, save the sound of trees rustling outside, the bare bones of the burnt house offering nothing to warm them. Lydia thinks she should feel weirder being in this house, even after, with Derek a foot away from her on this salvaged couch that Stiles probably thought of bringing into the building. Derek, who seems to be pretty content with being naked, sitting with his legs spread and eyes still muddled with post coital bliss.

She eyes him openly, raking over his body unabashedly, thinking, she had that. She actually did and no matter the bad blood they have between them, it doesn’t erase the fact that Derek openly welcomed her just as he welcomed Stiles. Whatever misgivings she had before (of Jackson, of Peter, of Stiles himself), it went flying out the window once Derek simply nodded at Stiles and started undressing her.

Taking a sip from her mug, she smiles.

 

-

 

It’s safe to say that this isn’t the first time they did this. Lydia can see and feel that, the looseness of Derek’s body under her, Stiles long fingers seemingly experienced as he touched Derek in places that earn them a groan, a huff, and even a whimper from the older man. The fact that Stiles can’t help smiling and smirking at every reaction he gets, the crinkling in his eyes as Derek shifts and Lydia moving with him, it’s not something entirely new. No one can be so sure of what they’re doing, especially when they’re naked and the stench of sex is seeping in the air.

Lydia’s not complaining though. Derek’s decided to give her something after all, languorous swipes of his tongue getting her wetter than she already is, a brush of teeth against that side of her clit, and she can’t help her thighs from quivering and her throat from moaning. Stiles eyes her with something akin to wonder, as if he didn’t expect her to make that sound at all. It only causes him to flush redder, brown eyes almost amber in the low light of the room. She bites her lip as Derek’s tongue slides against that side of her again and she feels close to tipping over. She grips harder now, fist twisting, slowly drawing a low rumble from Derek. She can feel his thighs and stomach clench, elbows digging Derek’s sides as if Lydia’s weight is nothing at all. She tips forward; moaning through an open mouthed kiss on Derek’s right hip as he slides a finger in her. Stiles groans greedily in front of her, eyes glazed as he continues to massage the Derek’s inner thighs.

It’s a torture, dragging everything out like this but Derek seems to be enjoying it, Stiles too. Lydia is nothing but impatient though and she wants more now, hand shooting out to grip the side of Stiles’ face, dragging him upwards for a kiss. He groans into her mouth, thumbs slipping in towards the center, jolting Derek and slipping a second finger harder than necessary. It makes Lydia’s teeth clack against Stiles and the boy could only choke out a half-laugh as he withdraws his fingers from Derek and moving to massage the man’s thighs. Lydia groans at this and Derek could only whimper as her grip tightened even further.

Stiles sighs out her name, closing the gap between his body and theirs, his hips meeting Derek’s spread-eagled thighs.

 

- 

 

He’s not the most silent of people, judging by the sound of metal and glass clinking on the other side of the room. Lydia muses about how Stiles has come to set himself firmly in the confines of this not-so-house, how the boy has actual supplies to boil water let alone make tea. Derek is quiet, eyes more bleary than relaxed. He moves then, curling into himself, arms settling on his knees. He’s really naked. It makes Lydia giggle.

Stiles suddenly appears, barely dressed, holding two mugs of hot something. She really doesn’t know where he got all of that. He smiles shyly at her, a touch of sheepishness in his features, before winking and coaxing Derek to take one of the mugs. She doesn’t hear what he says to him as he hands over the drink, a whisper meant only for Derek to which Derek looks at him imploringly. He smiles, a full one this time, patting Derek’s shoulder as he leaves.

She observes him, the minute details of him, body still crowding inwards, right hand curled loosely around the steaming mug. There’s a thin layer of sweat that still covers him and she thinks the stale air isn’t enough to cool his skin. Being a werewolf must be a definite extreme in more ways than one. There’s a tic in his jaw and she stares back as he side-eyes her. She smirks as he frowns.

Bearing a blanket from god knows where, Stiles comes back, draping it over Derek. The man shifts to cover himself up and Stiles settles in between them, an air of satisfaction in his movements. It’s as if the smile is stuck on his face.

 

-

 

She moves her grip to the tip of his cock, drawing out a long hiss and a stuttering whimper as she let her fist slide completely off. She can feel his hands moving, a palm spreading her wide as two fingers curl inside her. She’s mewling at the sensation and she feels Stiles’ hand guiding hers to wrap around both their lengths. He mouths a kiss on the side of her mouth and she turns to suckle on his lip. It makes him groan and she feels his hands wrapping around hers, tightening as he thrusts upward. Derek’s moans are getting louder now. The slick thrusts Stiles are doing, the obscene sounds of Derek’s fingers in her, and her breath intermingling with Stiles’ – it’s making her feel heady and everything’s colored red, completely and utterly red.

Stiles chokes on a moan and Lydia swallows it, the sound reverberating through her. It makes Derek’s cock twitch between their fingers and Stiles steadies himself, forehead resting on Lydia’s collarbone. She’s arched like a bow, both hands gripping the two tight, grinding the meat of her palms against the base of Derek’s cock. Stiles withdraws and moves to the side, retrieving a bottle. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands next, eyes simply focused on Stiles as he pops the cap open and pours a generous amount of the liquid on to his palms and drizzling more on Derek’s cock, Lydia’s hands. She can’t stop staring at him, the way he moves so surely, that damnable small smile never leaving his face.

He smears the liquid everywhere, hands massaging Derek’s thighs as they tremble at each touch. She can feel Derek vibrating under her and she whimpers lowly as he takes out his fingers. She feels his hands grabbing her ass and she slides further as he sticks his tongue in her. Her breasts are pressed tightly against his sternum now, cheek smeared with the same liquid Stiles is working on. She’s practically at eye level with Stiles’ dick, her hand unconsciously fisting Derek. Her other hand she uses to grip Derek’s right thigh, hitching his leg higher, giving Stiles wider access.

He kisses the tip of Derek’s cock before moving back down, tracing Derek’s sphincter before sliding his middle finger in.

 

-

 

Lydia has Stiles’ head on her lap now, his newly buzzed hair tickling her thighs. Her tea’s gone cold already, the half-filled mug settled on the dusty floor of the room. Derek’s still nursing his own drink, this time he’s facing both of them, legs tangled with Stiles’ who is currently trying to make Lydia smile. She’s not looking at him but at Derek, meeting his solemn gaze head on, still considering if this is a challenge or acquiescence. Derek’s eyes do not waver and she feels like he’s trying to communicate something to her, something she can’t just decipher. She may be smart but she’s no mind reader.

Stiles goes quiet and the prolonged silenced breaks Lydia and Derek’s staring contest. She looks down and sees Stiles staring back, an eyebrow raised and lips pursed. She wants to ask what but Stiles sighs and looks away, focusing somewhere outside, contemplation awash on his face. Lydia looks back up to catch Derek abandoning his mug and pulling up Stiles’ folded legs to settle on both his sides, his left knee awkwardly bent inwards to accommodate Stiles’ left. He’s circling his thumbs on both Stiles’ ankles and he looks fond, eyes trained on the boy between them.

Lydia thinks whatever it is Derek wants her to know wouldn’t matter in the long run. Best to let sleeping wolves lie.

 

-

 

He’s three fingers in and it takes Lydia’s iron grip to keep Derek from losing it completely. Stiles is breathing is loud and she can feel her pulse in her tongue as she swallows the head of Derek’s cock. The older man’s moans are loud. Real loud, completely taking over the cacophony of sighs and whimpers the other two are emitting. Who would’ve thought Derek would sound so wanton?

Stiles takes out his fingers with a slick sound, licking another stripe from there to Lydia’s lips. He smiles as she accommodates him, mumbling against her lips to turn around. She doesn’t hesitate, body twisting to do as he told, head still turned, lagging as if they can keep kissing even at this position. She’s straddling Derek now and as she turns his attention to him, she sees his eyes blown wide, face shiny, mouth wide open. He keeps licking his lips and he keeps staring back, waiting for her next move.

She’s suddenly being hugged by Stiles, his arms guiding her upwards, lifting her and she follows his movements. It comes to her then, how this is going to work, with Stiles behind her and Derek under her. That is until she feels a cock sliding against her and Derek just groans, shutting his eyes at the contact. Stiles mouths at her shoulder before pulling her free hand downwards, feeling Derek slipping between her legs. He settles in her and Stiles’ hands linger momentarily on her thighs, Derek following to replace his hands. It’s a strong grip and Lydia doesn’t doubt Derek’s strength, not at all, not when he’s bucking up and all she can do is match it with a grind.

He stops yet she can still feel his body trembling, anticipating something Lydia’s too hazed mind to comprehend. It’s a low groan that gets to her, with Stiles’ head brushing on her shoulder blades and she feels him thrust into Derek and right into her. It takes a while to get used to a rhythm, Stiles’ initiating the thrusts and Derek bucking up and Lydia can only grapple against Derek’s chest, grinding her hips down at every push.

 

-

 

She feels like drifting off now, with Stiles’ face mushed against her thighs and her right leg thrown over his torso. Derek has fallen asleep somewhere between Stiles’ silence and even breathing, head tilted to the side, left arm cradling his face. Their mugs are forgotten and Lydia is too boneless to care how she’ll have an aching back tomorrow, how she’ll probably having an itch between her legs, and how they’ll probably never speak about this, not ever, not till someone decides to call it quits.

She sighs in resignation and settles into herself, hands splaying against Stiles’ collarbone.

 

-

 

It was like the end of the world then when she shut her eyes so tight, riding her orgasm so hard, Derek’s movements practically tossing her off of him. She can still feel them moving in the moments in between, Stiles, desperate and chasing after that high and feeling Derek twitching against her chest as she settles her head on the crook of his neck. He’s as blissed out as she is, his mouth wide open, breathing so loud that she can hear the beating of his heart in her ear, the whoosh of his inhales.

Stiles cries out, hand shooting to balance himself as he almost topples over the both of them. Lydia can feel his trembling body behind her as he tries to settle himself over them, to drape his body without crushing her. He’s practically purring as he finally settles on draping half his body on them, head lolling forward to kiss Derek’s gaping mouth, petting and curling Lydia’s hair behind her ear whispering so good, so good. Derek is still in her until she shifts to let Stiles cover the other half of Derek’s body.

They’re overheated and the stale air in the room does nothing to diffuse the sharp tang of the aftermath. As their pants taper off to deeper breaths, Stiles hazards a chuckle, wiping a hand across his face, sweat and that liquid smearing all over his cheek. Lydia snorts at him, eyes sleepy and mouth in a sated smile. She doesn't bother looking up at Derek. The steady beat of his heart is enough to know that he feels just the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry I don't know if there is even a single ounce of characterization in this fic. I just really needed to write it down. It's haunting me in my sleep. Also, perspectives, psh, who needs them?


End file.
